


Lord of the Void

by sir_red



Category: DCU
Genre: Action/Adventure, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sir_red/pseuds/sir_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an adventure fic about the Bat Family and an original character a sorcerer from a race called the Elohim.</p><p>Thank you for dropping by. To those of you who are new - please enjoy. For those who might be familiar with my prior work - I think it’s worth noting that this is something of a departure from my Vamps UK series which were basically pure slash with very little in the way of plot. Don’t get me wrong I take a perverse joy in producing such trash. But I also enjoy other things as well.</p><p>I can’t promise this won’t have sex, eventually. It’ll just have other stuff too!</p><p>Love</p><p>SirRed</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gotham Night

Gotham at night time teems with madness. During the day the madness is just as potent, yet it is limited by the daylight, contained to shadows and underground places. Then when the light is gone and a delicious covering of darkness filters over this city. The darkness come out to play. 

Gotham is renowned for corruption, for crime and of course the Caped Crusader. 

None of these things, however, were of much interest to me. Except perhaps as passing curiosities, novelties in a world increasingly devoid of the novel. 

I am Elohim and the Elohim were not meant to have passions or particularly strong attachments. Friendship was permissible of course, as well as a certain familial fondness but passion? Love? These things were not for immortals. 

Some of our Philosophers had questioned whether our emotional temperament had been a product of our long lives and isolation or whether it had been an evolutionary adaptation to cope with our long lives and isolation. 

Either way, the majority of Elohim agreed that passion, either cruel or benevolent will eventually lead to pain. Given that individual Elohim can quite literally move mountains, the thought of emotional turbulence among our kind should terrify even the most ardent romantic. 

Yet in spite of these logical and well established principles I persisted with my peculiar, even ‘grotesque’ fascination with the mortal world. Mortals were short lived, yet they managed to achieve so much in their short lives. It was neither my fascination with mortals nor my unfortunate emotional state which had drawn me to Gotham, except indirectly perhaps. I had come to face a threat, a threat to the Elohim and humankind for that matter.

I left the rooftop and flew out over the City. 

“Flew” is of course an inefficient verb to describe my method of transport. I don’t grow wings and ride columns of air, instead I simply will myself to be propelled forward and so I move. Older Elohim can travel from one location to another without bothering about the spaces in between. After one near disastrous attempt at translocation I had decided to stick with the slower, yet much safer, ‘flight’. 

From that height, barely clearing the sky scrapers, the City had a certain charm. The sheer scale of the buildings, illuminated by so many bright lights was daunting. 

I am barely old enough to remember a time when Cities still slept. By the time of my birth there had been enough public lighting for some of the seedier parts of human culture to endure past the time when decent people were in bed. 

I landed on the precipice of a gothic looking rooftop and looked down at my target. 

The construction was enormous, a post-modern gargantuan monstrosity of steel and glass plating. 

The ground floor was clearly visible through the massive sky light beneath me. 

Through that skylight a number of tuxedo clad individuals were visible. The party-goers mingling about in a seemingly aimless fashion. Of course their apparently mindless meanderings were in fact part of a highly complex mercurial ritual.

The political and economic maneuverings of Gotham’s Elite might well have the power to shake the human world, but I am not part of the human world. 

Instead my goal was of a more metaphysical nature. 

As well as a gathering for some of the wealthiest and ethically flexible denizens of Gotham that venue was the location of an auction. 

For the most part the items to be auctioned were harmless and mundane albeit illegal. 

One item however was not harmless. 

The piece in question was exquisite in its design, so beautifully formed that only human arrogance could assume it was made by humans. The disc was about two centimeters thick. It was a single disc of silver decorated only with a sinuous line of inset black hematite. The line commenced at the edge of the disc and then curled inwards around and around the plate, spiraling half a dozen times until it reached the centre. 

The disc was continuously warm. Even if placed in a cold environment the disc would remain the same temperature. 

For any sane person such an aspect would call into question the nature of the item, perhaps encourage them to rid themselves of such a thing. Instead the piece continued to fascinate mortals with more money than sense the world over.

The disc was evil. As much as it was possible for an object to be evil. The disc was not sentient, yet it was one of only a few connections to a sentience beyond the awareness of most mortals. 

And for the first time in a century it was exposed, available to be taken by any Elohim who happened to try his or her luck. 

The power of the disc called to us, as it did to all creatures of magic. 

Until now it had been bound in magic so strong even the greatest Elohim could not break. Now it was free from those protections. 

The disc was not yet visible. Indeed it was unlikely the disc would be put on display until the auction began. 

The window of opportunity would only be relatively small. The magic which governed the ownership of the disc was old and complex. I, or any other interested party, would be obliged to act before the disc came into the possession of its next mortal owner. 

What’s more the disc’s makers had been foresighted enough to provide a pure iron box for the disc’s containment. The box was of Elohim design so it had, of course, remained completely free of rust and had been used by each subsequent mortal owner.

It put me in a difficult position. Once it was visible, I could move and seize the item myself but to do so would expose our kind and almost certainly lead to a death sentence for me. Alternatively I could watch, sit and wait and hope that should another party try to seize the disc I have time to stop them. 

The party in question would probably be stronger than me. In fact he would likely be so much stronger than me that any attempt on my part to stop him would be laughable. 

The auction commenced and I prepared myself for whatever came next. 

Several items were brought before the crowd, displayed, sold and then carted off. 

My anxiety grew with each item. 

Should I act or should I wait for the other party to move first. I felt like I was playing a game of chess where I could not see all of the pieces. 

Unfortunately other powers were in motion in the city that night. Those powers chose to make my decision a moot point. 

I was so engrossed in my study of the facility behind me that I did not sense his approach. He was also remarkably soft footed, moving with a grace that bordered on the superhuman. 

The thing which attached itself to my back was small and pointed, it pierced my linen shirt and scratched my back. I turned in surprise to find the mortal hero standing behind me. 

“You’re making a terrible mistake,” I told him quietly. 

He simply smiled and triggered the device in my hand

Pain. Pain coursed through my body and I fell to my knees. He triggered it again and I hit the floor. I bit off a curse and reached for the wires to pull the dreaded prongs away from their contact with my body but another wave of pain stopped me immediately. 

“That’s really not a good idea,” the hero told me conversationally. 

“Why are you doing this?” I demanded, humiliated that I had been bested so easily and by a mortal!

“Did you think I was going to let you steal a priceless artifact?” the hero questioned me, sounding a little bit smug. 

I looked up at my captor and was surprised to find that on closer examination he was little more than a child. He wore tight black leggings with green boots, a red top decorated only with a single yellow “R”. He also wore a cape, black and yellow.

“Robin I presume?” I asked him, I began to struggle to my hands and knees but he gestured with the device threateningly. 

Unfortunately for Robin my head was beginning to clear. The manifestation of Will which sets my species apart requires calm and clear thinking. As my serenity returned I reached out and drew energy into my body. 

Magic ran through my veins and I knew once again what it felt to be truly alive. I was one with the universe. I wielded the power of creation itself!

I reined in my enthusiasm less I be destroyed by my own power. 

“You made a big mistake Robin,” I informed him, “luckily for you I am unlike most of my kind.”

The casting I used required no spoken words or gestures, there was no action to indicate to Robin that the game had changed. A wave of pure kinetic force fled from my body and flew at the boy. It was only enough to knock him off his feet, he fell still holding the device and the wires were pulled from my body. I stood up and looked down at the scene below me.

Thankfully, blessedly, nothing was amiss. Either I had missed the item and nothing had happened or the item had not yet come up. 

“My primary purpose here is not to take the item,” I informed Robin, my kind may be unable to lie but it doesn’t mean we have to tell the whole truth, “I am simply trying to stop a third party from taking it.” 

The boy had already rolled to his feet and moving with fluid grace he threw three curved projectiles at me.   
I casually broke apart the objects, shattering their component molecules so that they passed me as so much dust. 

Unperturbed the boy reached to his side holster and pulled out a device that looked like a firearm, though one armed with rope. 

“It was one thing to take me by surprise,” I told the boy, “but face to face you cannot match me, please desist, I have no desire to harm you.” 

The boy pointed the object at me, sighing quietly I made it vanish from his hand. 

Evidently devoid of his toys the boy through himself at me. The sheer novelty of someone trying to fight me with their body than their mind was enough to take me by surprise so much that he managed to get in a good punch before I reacted. 

The little brat punched me in the nose!

“Ow!” I said outloud, it was not perhaps the most dignified reaction but this kid really knew how to hurt people!

I was however growing tired of this exchange. I encased the boy in a casting of unbreakable oxygen, air solidified and hung him up in the air, a metre or so above ground. 

He continued to glare defiantly at me. I imagine had I allowed his neck free movement he would have tried to bite me. 

“That is quite enough, Robin,” I told him scolding, “I am trying to…”

Unfortunately I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence for in that moment I felt a pulse of magical power. 

Swearing to myself I ran to the ledge to investigate. I looked down into the lobby of the building below in time to see a burst of bright light as an Elohim translocated. 

I had missed my opportunity. The thief had taken the disc. 

I turned around furiously. 

The boy hung suspended in the air, still glaring defiantly at me. 

I bit back my words before I even began my tirade. This kid had no idea what was going on, he had clearly been manipulated. It was hardly his fault that he had intervened. I realized sheepishly that I had been played. 

“Wow, I really suck at this stuff,” I said outloud. 

“That’s funny,” a new voice said to my right, “I was just about the say the same thing.” 

I turned just in time for Nightwing to punch me in the face.

I staggered backward a bit, turning with the momentum of the blow, only to be hit by a third assailant, whom I later learnt was Red Robin. I fell back surprised by the startling smile this new fellow gave me. I can now appreciate his smile was probably from the thrill of the fight rather than his new acquaintance, but until you’ve been smiled at by Tim Drake you haven’t lived. 

I stumbled back again only for Nightwing to sweep my feet from out underneath me. I landed on my arse and felt my Casting holding Robin in place break. He quietly fell to the floor and I heard him say. 

“Careful he sucker punched me when I thought he was down.”

I tried to chuckle to myself, only it came out as a wheeze. I sucker punched him! That was a bit rich!

“Enough!” the new voice was powerful. Both of my assailants withdrew.

I looked up and saw Batman for the first time. To my surprise he extended his hand to me, I gratefully took it and he pulled me to my feet.

“We’ve been played,” Batman said out loud.

“He attacked me!” Robin protested, sounding a little upset at the lack of beating going my way. 

“He defended himself,” Batman corrected him, “you were the instigator and that was unacceptable, you must learn restraint.” 

Robin fell silent under Batman’s gaze. 

“The item that was stolen,” Batman asked me, “what was its significance?” 

I was hesitant to say anything at all. I suppose I could have simply vanished then, turned invisible or flown away but I was still a little disoriented from the beating and I didn’t want to risk any magic unless absolutely necessary. 

“What do you know about magic?” I hedged.

“More than most,’” the Dark Knight answered, “not as much as I’d like.”

“Suffice to say it was a container,” I told him after another moment’s hesitation, “well part of a container.”

“What does it contain?” Nightwing asked me, sounding curious. 

“Something very bad,” I told him. 

“That’s helpful,” Robin said petulantly. 

Batman didn’t answer, a single gesture from his hand was enough for Robin to fall silent again, somewhat sullen this time. 

Batman simply looked at me, waiting for me to go on. 

To my surprise I found myself talking.

“It’s a seal, the first seal actually and the only one that resides within this dimension. If broken it could, theoretically, open a prison.” 

“Whose prison?” Red Robin asked, he was looking at me intently. 

“You have no way of comprehending the answer to that question,” I told him quietly. 

“I’m a pretty open minded guy,” he informed me quietly.

I smiled at him.

“That’s not what I meant,” I looked at them all and sighed again, even the eldest of them was thirty at the most, I could barely understand the powers at work, what hope did they have? 

“There are powers older than the universe, older than time, if you’ll pardon the oxymoron, these powers don’t really have names, other than those given to them by lesser beings.

“A very long time ago some people, my people, took certain steps to contain the Nameless Ones.

Some we destroyed, those who couldn’t be destroyed we banished. This one could not be destroyed nor banished, so he was imprisoned…”

“…for all time…” Nightwing suggested sardonically.

“Well that was sort of the idea, yes,” I told him. 

“What names has it been given?” Batman asked, looking at me with a look so penetrating I felt naked. Never before, nor again, have I encountered a mortal with a presence like him. It was like being back before one of the Elders. 

“In ancient times,” I told him, “they called him Baal.”

Red Robin pushed me forward just as a bolt of lightning slammed into the place I had been standing. The momentum of his push coupled with the force of the blast forced me forward and I fell onto my hands and knees. 

I turned in surprise to find the boy dying. 

The masked heroes were already in action. Nightwing moved to cover and began covertly scanning for threats, Batman squatted down and contacted someone using a hidden radio piece in his cowl and Robin stood protectively over Red Robin who lay, smoking on the ground. 

“You won’t find him,” I said outloud, all three turned to look at me. 

“Lightning isn’t easily controlled, not using magic anyway. This feels like Elohim work, which means that my adversary has tried to remove me from play.” 

“Can you help him?” Batman asked behind me, his voice full of barely contained fury.   
I didn’t answer. 

The Dark Knight grabbed the front of my shirt and lifted me into the air. As I hung there waiting for him to start beating me up again I looked at the boy whose action had saved my life. 

Either it had come off in the action or one of his brothers had removed it but Tim was unmasked. There was a flawless unthinking beauty to his features. His face was completely untouched by the wound. 

I could feel that he was on the brink. His body was too damaged. He was dying. What’s more even if he could somehow survive most of his body was burnt beyond repair, he would live his life a horrible scarred mess. 

“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” I said quietly. 

Batman let go of me and I landed hard on my feet. 

“I need a knife,” I told them finally.

“Yeah like we’re gonna let that happen,” Nightwing said sarcastically. 

“He’s dying,” I told them bluntly, “modern medicine can’t save him, you require magic, and I don’t see anybody else volunteering to help.” 

Batman removed a small blade from his utility belt and handed it to me. Wordlessly I walked over and sat cross legged beside the boy. As I sat down I unbuttoned and removed my shirt. 

“Woah,” Nightwing said outloud. 

“Pull ups,” I told him quietly, “fifty a day.” 

“That’s not really what I meant,” Nightwing said, looking at my scars. 

“Ah, an explanation will soon be redundant.”

I took the knife and made a small incision on the right side of my body. A tiny trickle of blood spilled onto the blade. 

I then placed the very point of the knife on the palm of Timothy’s hand. I turned it ever so slightly so that a bead of blood spilled out and onto its surface.

I then let the blood mix with my own. 

Then looking down at my arm sadly I cut deep into my arm, just above the wrist. The blood spurted out as I severed the vein. 

Nightwing swore and Robin staggered back surprised. 

My blood dribbled over my arm and ran, in a steady stream, toward the ground. Only as it touched the ground it vanished. 

Red Robin, Timothy Drake began to heal. 

His burnt flesh flaked away and vanished as new pink flesh replaced it. His muscles, even his bones began to repair from the damage of the electrocution. 

Still my blood spilled out onto the ground.

I began to feel light headed. 

The burns were all gone but I had lost too much blood. 

I reached for the spare bandage I keep in my pocket but my hands had gone numb.

“Bollocks,” I said outloud as I passed out.


	2. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing Bat adventure fic. Not much action this time. Promise there will be in the next chapter.
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> Sir_red

Night time faded into morning and I continued my vigil over the stranger. 

Sleeping on the bed in the Bat Cave’s med bay the stranger looked normal. He also looked young. He was maybe four or five years older than me at the most. 

The stranger was a ghost. There was no record of his fingerprints on any database - believe me we checked them all. He wasn’t carrying any kind of ID. The only things in his possession were a watch and an old fashioned purse with a small amount of change. His clothing was linen, custom made. He also wore a necklace of unknown origin, though the computer identified the stone as Hematite. Iris scans and facial recognition had been fruitless. Bruce had taken some of his blood to run DNA only to come up with nothing. 

We knew from our own experience that he had power and a fair amount of it. 

Most importantly, to me at least, he had saved my life.

For reasons unknown this complete stranger had cut deep into his own arm. He had poured out more than two litres of his own blood and so doing he had healed me from the point of dying. 

Such a display of power was awe inspiring, this coming from a guy who is best friends with a Kryptonian. 

He was also good looking, in a old world way. His skin was pale and his hair was jet black. He could have easily passed for a Goth or a Supervillain groupie, particularly in his get up. 

Since I had awoken on the rooftop to find myself, surprisingly, completely healed I had felt a strong connection to the stranger. Somehow in whatever he had done to save me he had created some kind of link between us. 

Neither I nor any of us knew much about magic. What’s more the stranger’s magic seemed different to anything I had encountered. It was somehow greater, older perhaps than the showman type magic of Zatanna or the dark power of John Constantine. 

I had thought long and carefully about my decision. Before this I had guarded my true identity with enthusiasm that even Batman had called excessive. I had always hidden my identity even from my fellow team members of the Teen Titans. Somehow I knew I could trust this person more than people I had known for years.

I had of course considered that this entire activity might have been a ruse on his part to get closer to us. That he could have called the lightning down himself and healed me. Yet the amount of blood he had lost suggested otherwise. He was dying when we brought him back to the Batcave, an adult male can lose up to 40% of their blood before they are in a critical condition. For a male of his size that equates to just under 2.5 litres of blood. Bruce estimated he lost half again as much.

I found it particularly fascinating, for a reason I couldn’t explain, that he slept in such a still manner. He lay with his arms by his sides, the only parts of him that moved were his chest which rose slowly with each breath and his eyeballs which occasionally moved underneath their lids. 

When he awoke he didn’t stir or fidget, his eyes simply came open. 

He turned to consider me before saying. 

“If you’re going to start beating me up again, would you mind waiting until I get on my feet.” 

I felt a little put out at his attitude. “If I was going to beat you up, I already would have.” 

He looked at me blankly before I realised how ridiculous my last sentence had been. I started blushing but he mercifully pretended not to notice. 

“How long was I out for?” he asked. 

“About 12 hours,” I told him, “It’s just before midday now.” 

“Really?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. 

“You lost a fair amount of blood,” I said quietly. 

“Ah right, yes...” for some reason he seemed embarrassed.

“Look...” I began, “I don’t do the whole ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ that well, or you know human interaction at all...”

“Good thing I’m not human then...” he said with a smile, he continued before I could say anything. 

“Actually while right now I’m rather tempted to do a disappearing act, well my actions last night....well there will be consequences.”

He hesitated for a moment.

“I guess I owe you an explanation,” he said finally. 

“Yeah maybe one or two,” I agreed. 

“Before we have the talk, do you mind if I freshen up and maybe get something to eat?” 

I nodded and showed him to the shower. I headed up to the kitchen to find that Alfred was instinctively already preparing our ‘honoured guest’ a meal. 

“How did you know he was up, Al?” I asked, surprised once more by Alfred’s seeming prescience. 

“I didn’t,” Alfred admitted, “but with all four of you plus our guest in the manor at the moment I figured somebody would be hungry.” 

“I’m sure I could have managed to fix him something...” 

Alfred just looked at me and raised a single eyebrow.

I found myself blushing like a school boy for the second time that day. 

“Its natural you should feel indebted to him,” Alfred said to me kindly, “from what I understand he did save your life.” 

I just stared at the ground, wishing I was elsewhere. 

“It never ceases to amaze me how emotionally inept the otherwise brilliant Wayne men can be,” Alfred said out loud and headed downstairs. 

The stranger had dined and showered and was looking a much more healthy colour by the time Bruce, Dick, Damian and I were ready to meet with him. Either altogether or individually they had agreed to appear before him without their masks on. 

We sat in the planning room in the Bat Cave. Bruce had turned off all of the electronic displays, either out of fear that the stranger’s anti-technology aura might affect them or to prevent him from reading any information he shouldn’t. Knowing Bruce it was probably a bit of both. 

The stranger smiled to himself when Bruce walked into the room. Once we had all taken seat Bruce spoke first.

“I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for saving Red Robin’s life,” Bruce said to the Stranger. 

“I think the pseudonyms are a little redundant at this point,” Dick said quietly.

“Bruce Wayne,” the stranger said, “I might have known.” 

“Really?” Bruce said, “I’ve worked rather hard to keep it a secret.” 

“Yes,” the stranger agreed, “nobody goes to quite so much effort to keep a secret as you do. The play boy persona, the suspicious involvement in accidents and carefully timed getaways, I had always suspected you were involved the supernatural.

“I suppose the vigilante lifestyle is similar in some ways,” he added after a moment.

“You’ll notice,” Damian said to the stranger, “we don’t get into the habit of cutting ourselves.”

“No,” the stranger said, sounding amused, “you have plenty of other people to do that.” 

The stranger studied each of us in turn.

“I presume these are your adopted sons then?” He asked Bruce.

“They are my sons, yes,” I expected Damian to react to that but for some reason he was too preoccupied staring at the stranger with intense dislike. 

Bruce then introduced each of us in turn, using only our first names. I was grateful for that I often wondered whether Bruce would choose to introduce me as ‘Drake’ or ‘Wayne’ and I didn’t want to learn that in the stranger’s presence. 

For some reason, however, Damian’s attitude simply amused the stranger, his obvious amusement of course simply stoked Damian’s rage. 

“You know our names,” Bruce observed, “perhaps we could learn yours.”

“You don’t realise what you’re asking for,” the stranger said.

“We have some idea,” Dick said to him.

“No, no,” the stranger said sounding exasperated, “I don’t have a secret identity, or really any identity within the human world but to ask for a name from a sorcerer... well not even lovers would expect as much from me.”

“You’re suggesting that your name could grant some kind of power over you?” Bruce asked, with the same calm tone he would use to enquire about the right wine to go with dinner.

“Well, yes,” the stranger answered bemused. 

“Perhaps you could write it down,” Dick answered, once again assuming the role of peacemaker. 

The stranger nodded and Dick retrieved a legal pad and a pencil. The stranger then wrote out a single name “Ambrosius”. 

“You may use a derivative if you prefer,” Ambrosius told us outloud, “it’s considered impolite to use a sorcerer’s full name to refer to them... unless they’re already dead of course,” he added as an afterthought. 

“How about Amber’,” Dick suggested cheerfully. 

Ambrosius looked at him flatly.

“How about Ambrose,” I said quietly.

“Yes,” Ambrose agreed, “that should work just fine”. 

“It seems somewhat unfair,” Damian observed, “that you should have my father’s name from his mouth but we don’t have yours.”

“Oh but I don’t,” Ambrose pointed out, “I made it clear I knew who he was to make sure he didn’t say his name...and it was your father that said each of your names... and he didn’t even use your whole names for that matter.

“Either way it would likely make no difference for any of you,” Ambrose continued, “Naming Magic is powerful, primordial stuff but it’s not much use on mortals.”

“Why not?” I asked curiously. 

“I’m sure it will come to you in time,” Ambrose said with a mysterious smile. 

“That’s an irritating habit, Ambrose,” Dick said to him.

“Isn’t it though,” Ambrose agreed.

Dick smiled. 

“You said you would provide me with an explanation,” I reminded Ambrose, “I feel... different.” 

Ambrose looked at me sharply, Bruce turned to me and gave me a strikingly similar look. 

“Really, you didn’t mention it at our debriefing,” Dick said out loud, voicing the thought that Bruce could say with his eyes alone.

“Yeah...well I didn’t know what to make of it,” I said lamely.

“Perhaps you could explain,” Bruce said to Ambrose.

“Blood magic,” Ambrose said, he suddenly looked uncomfortable, “well what you’ve got to understand is each sorcerer has their strengths and they aren’t always the same...”

“You’re saying you screwed up?” Damian said incredulously.

“No...” Ambrose said, “....well maybe a little...”

Bruce looked at him flatly and Ambrose continued without being prompted.

“Blood magic is crude stuff,” Ambrose said, “you sacrifice something in exchange for something else.

“I’m not very good at healing,” the sorcerer explained hesitantly, “look there are magus who can simply knit a wound back together, they can fix the most terrible maladies with their Will alone.

“That’s not me,” Ambrose said, “I have to act indirectly.” 

“I’m waiting for that part that has consequences...” Dick said, all his previous friendliness gone.

“Keep in mind that I saved your brother’s life...” Ambrose said and Dick looked a little sheepish.

“What I did wasn’t exactly...legal,” Ambrose said hesitantly, “and well there will be other affects too... it’s possible I’ve created a connection between us.”

“Possible?” Bruce said, the one word managed to be a question and an implied threat at the same time.

“What I did isn’t allowed,” Ambrose explained, “blood magic is supposed to be used very rarely and never on a human, the results are too unpredictable.

“In ancient times the Elohim gave certain things to humans and well... it didn’t turn out well, since then we’re prohibited from giving you anything which might affect your development.

“It’s possible I gave Tim some of my memories and maybe some other things as well.”

“Wait...” I said, feeling kind of excited for the first time, “are you saying I will get to use magic?”

“No,” Ambrose seemed alarmed, “forgotten gods no, there’s no way I could hand that out by accident.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Dick asked, looking puzzled.

“Well, there’s stuff you’re not supposed to know, knowledge is powerful stuff and it can be dangerous, particularly if it involves the future or even the present really.”

“You can see the future?” Dick said sounding intrigued.

Ambrose looked genuinely alarmed, perhaps realising what he had said. Surprisingly Damian came to his rescue.

“Who or what are Elohim?” Damian asked.

“It’s a proto-Hebrew word meaning ‘god’,” I said to nobody in particular.

Ambrose looked impressed.

“Yes and no,” he said to all of us, “it’s actually from a much older language than Hebrew or any Semitic language for that matter. It’s from a language older than your species...”

“Put simply,” Ambrose continued, “I am Elohim.”

“Wait,” Dick said sounding surprised, “you’re saying you’re what, 100,000 years old?” 

“No,” Ambrose said, “the Elohim are a people, a divergent evolution closely related to your own. The thing that sets us apart is our aptitude for magic. In your species the gift is rare, in ours, well the Elohim are magic.” 

“I’m only 273 years old,” Ambrose told them, “among my kind that makes me younger than Damian.” 

We all took a moment to process that. 

“This is interesting,” Bruce said finally, “but not really relevant. You said last night that the object was a seal for a prison containing an ancient god named Baal.”

“That’s approximately what I said yes,” Ambrose agreed. 

“Presumably it was stolen by another... Elohim?” Bruce asked.

Ambrose nodded.

“What can you tell us about the likely suspect, I’m assuming you have a suspect in mind?” Bruce said, sounding businesslike.

“Look,” Ambrose said, trying to sound polite, “I stayed because I felt I owed you an explanation due to my fumbling with the healing of Timothy but this matter doesn’t involve you.”

“Something was stolen from a business in my city,” Bruce said, though he was no longer using Bruce’s voice, “I’m involved.” 

Ambrose looked at Bruce and then at each of us. 

“You will likely all be killed,” he said simply, “you should know that at least.”

“Please,” Damian said scornfully, “if it’s so dangerous why are you doing it?.”

“I have no intention of living through this, Damian.” Ambrose told us simply.

Ambrose took a deep breath, shook his head slightly in disbelief at himself and then he began to talk. 

“You need to understand there are some things I cannot reveal to you, I’ve already said too much about some of those things. 

“I believe the Seal was stolen by an Elohim named Lucius. He is much older than me and far more powerful. He is also brilliant, a dynamic thinker and something of an iconoclast among our kind. 

“Lucius also knows the Law better than anybody. He is always careful to keep from breaking the Law, although he has come close a number of times. I’ve never been able to find evidence he actually has broken the Law.” 

“You’ve pursued this individual,” Bruce stated, it wasn’t a question, “yet you are obviously not in a position of authority yourself, this suggest a personal vendetta.”

“My family were killed,” Ambrose told us, "...look I'm not here for revenge. 

“Do you have proof that Lucius was involved?” Dick asked. 

“No,” Ambrose said, sounding tired and for the first time, old. 

“What will his next move be?” Bruce said, sounding back to business. 

Ambrose seemed to consider that for a moment.

“He can’t risk moving the Seal over water,” Ambrose said thoughtfully.

“Suggesting it’s still in Gotham,” Dick said, sounding excited, “can you track it down?” 

“Normally I could,” Ambrose said, “but Lucius will be blocking me.”

“Is there any other way to track it?” I asked, looking at Ambrose intently. 

“The Seal triggers violence in mortals,” Ambrose told us, “you could look for anywhere there has been an increase in violent crime since last night.” 

“Now you’re talking our language,” Dick said sounding dreadfully cheerful and enthusiastic.


	3. Docks at twilight

Violent crime it turned out was something of a Gotham speciality. 

The computers in the Bat-Cave monitored every potential source of information from the Gotham PD radio system to the cities tens of thousands of CCTV Cameras. 

Not for the first time since arriving in Gotham I felt completely useless. When it comes to technology I am not only out of my depth but an actual impediment. My presence is enough to foul up mobile phones, cameras and computers. I can’t even watch TV without it breaking down on me. 

My father had theorised it is a result of our auras. That Elohim are so inherently magical we’re simply incompatible with technology from the human world. I thought it was just a pain in the arse. 

I stayed clear of the computers and their screens, choosing instead to sit quietly by myself on my bed in the med bay and think about how thoroughly fucked I was. 

Bruce seemed to appreciate the wisdom of my decision as he chose to come to me, rather than risk me come to him. 

“There are several potential items of interest but nothing beyond the usual,” he reported. 

“Things tend not to pick up until night fall,” Dick added, entering the med bay. 

“That might continue to be the case,” I thought out loud, “it’s likely Baal’s power will increase at night. 

“That being said Lucius may well be taking steps to counter the Seal’s influence.”

“That seems somewhat out of character from what you’ve told us?” Bruce asked carefully. 

“He wouldn’t be motivated by a desire to protect people, just himself,” I explained, “Lucius knows the effect that the Seal has on mortals. He may take steps to prevent me or another party from tracking him.

“Then again he may not. Its hard to tell with him sometimes.”

Bruce nodded, seemingly mollified. 

Everything about Bruce made me uneasy. He had a way of looking at you that made you think he already knew your secrets and was simply waiting for you to reveal them yourself. I realised I had already told these people way too much but I didn’t have a choice. I was in over my head and I needed help.

“The sun will set in a couple of hours,” Bruce said, “until then you might want to get some more rest - you look like hell.” 

*

The sun set and we headed out into the night. 

At my suggestion we paired up. It wasn’t really my idea to be honest, I just figured it would be better if I suggested it rather than have Batman try and force me into it. 

The look he gave me suggested he knew exactly what I was thinking. 

Dealing with that man was beginning to tire me. 

I ended up with Red Robin. Batman was paired, perhaps by default with Robin. Nightwing was planning to meet up with someone apparently called “Bat-Girl”. It seemed to me to be a rather patronising moniker but I kept my opinions to myself.

We headed into the city in an automobile. Alfred had remaining behind in the Cave to monitor the various frequencies and direct us toward them.

The car Timothy drove was apparently a relatively simple model. Given my ‘condition’ nobody wanted to risk me in one of the newer cars, where everything was apparently automated.

“Sorry you got stuck with me,” I said to Timothy, he simply nodded.

“You know for a loner you’re kind of chatty,” Tim observed ironically.

“Well I’m not a loner by choice,” I explained, “it just kind of comes with the territory.”

“What, Magic?” He asked.

“No, Immortality.” I told him.

He nodded.

“Anyway when I do find someone to talk to I have difficulty shutting up,” I explained. 

The little brat nodded in agreement!

“How old are you anyway?” I asked him.

He didn’t answer.

“You know if we’re going to be working together it might be easier if you talk to me,” I suggested quietly.

“I think it would be better for both of us if I didn’t do that,” he replied in the same tone of voice. 

I fell into a silence that was perhaps a little bit sullen.

Regardless I found myself admiring him in the light from the passing streetlights. Even behind the mask it was clear that he was a person of great beauty. He also possessed a careful grace which suggested quiet competency at every task. From beating the crap out of people to driving a vehicle, Timothy Drake did everything like he was born to do it. 

Alfred’s voice interrupted my ponderings. He reported an incident for us to check out and we headed down to the docks to take a look.

“When we get there,” Timothy said, sounding businesslike, “stay in the car. If you’re needed I’ll signal for you.”

“You don’t think I can handle myself?” I asked, somewhat amused.

“Well you seem to be really good at being punched in the face and falling down a lot,” Timothy told me, “but those particular skills won’t be needed tonight.”

“I was at the Battle of Waterloo, you little twit,” I told him acidly. 

“Which will be very handy if we encounter any Red Coats,” he replied in a neutral tone.

He parked the car and gave me a final warning look before departing, sliding out of the vehicle stealthily. 

My first, and somewhat childish, impulse was to do the opposite of what the boy had told me just to spite him. I realised however I was being childish. After all what did I know about the vigilante business? I resolved to stay in the car and felt quite proud of my humility. 

Unfortunately Killer Croc had no interest in playing by Red Robin’s rules.

An enormous set of claws tore through the door beside me, shredding it like it was paper mache. I found myself looking up into the maws of a monster. 

Don’t get me wrong I’ve met a few monsters in my time, I just didn’t expect to find one in Gotham. The monsters here were supposed to be human. 

Somewhat stunned I sat there stupidly staring up at the beast. Its likely I would have continue to sit there and be eviscerated when Red Robin came flying to my rescue. 

He literally flew (apparently the little bugger has retractable wings) into the clearing, he somersaulted and executed a flying kick to Croc’s head. I came to my senses and tried to undo my buckle as Croc turned to face his new attacker.

The buckle was, of course, jammed.

“I can’t get it undone,” I wailed, somewhat panicked.

I would like to claim here that I did not wail...but yes, I really, really did.

“Seriously?” Red Robin demanded of me, as he ducked under a swipe from one of Croc’s meaty paws. 

“Now is hardly the time for levity,” I told him crossly. 

Red Robin jumped again, somersaulting over Croc’s arm this time. He reached to his utility belt and extracted a small cylinder which suddenly extended into a bo-staff. 

The staff extended just in time to catch Croc’s tail which would have otherwise sent Red Robin flying.

“Well I’m a little busy at the moment,” Red Robin panted, “but I’ll get back to you shortly.”

It occurred to me while I was sitting there that I was, after all, an almost competent sorcerer. Feeling foolish I dissolved the belt and the buckle entirely, breaking them down into their composite atoms.

“You should have told me to use magic,” I told him chidingly, as I pulled myself out of the car.

“I..should...have...told...you?!?!?” Red Robin demanded, punctuating each word with a hit to Croc’s torso. 

I stood there and calmly regarded the beast. I drew energy into myself and formulated a devastating casting. A sphere of pure white fire appeared a centremetre above the palm of my hand and grew until it blazed like a newborn star. 

“Foul creature,” I cried at the beast, “I warn you, withdraw or be destroyed.” 

Perhaps drawn by the light Croc turned to regard me curiously. Thinking to catch him off guard Red Robin went on attack, but the Croc was bluffing he caught Red Robin’s staff with one paw, lifted him bodily with the other paw and threw him. Timothy managed to roll as he fell but was still thrown several metres away. 

I hefted the sphere of white fire in my right hand and called out once more.

“Begone creature!” I told him, “twice now I abjure ye!”

What can I say - for some reason I get all middle-English when I face evil monsters?

Croc looked at me again, genuinely enthralled by the pretty light in my hand. He opened his enormous maw and snapped at me once and then again. 

“Thrice now I abjure ye!” I warned him finally. 

Croc squatted down preparing to pounce at me. I stood my ground, hefted the burning sphere a couple of times and as he jumped I hurled it at him. 

At the same time I bound the sphere to his life force, meaning that even if he dodged it would still track him to the ends of the earth.

I then, somewhat awkwardly, jumped the hell out of the way so his enormous carcass didn’t crush me to death. I fell, facing away from the Croc so I heard rather than saw the detonation as my Casting hit him. 

I walked over to Red Robin to check on him. As I approached him he struggled to his feet, leaning slightly on his bo-staff. He appeared to be favouring one side.

“Does that usually happen?” Red Robin asked me, gesturing towards where the Croc now lay dead.

“Few creatures can face the might of the Elohim,” I told him, a trifle smugly.

“Yeah...” Red Robin observed, “apparently Killer Croc is one of them.”

Alarmed I turned to find Killer Croc climbing to his feet. Not only was he not dead he wasn’t even burned.

“That’s....unfortunate,” I said outloud.

“No, kidding,” Red Robin agreed.

Killer Croc leapt for us once again and terror climbed into my throat.


	4. Croc and Drake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hmm I really should think up some better Chapter names - shouldn't I?

Killer Croc roared at us and charged. 

I gave my temporary partner a sideways glance. Ambrose was still in a state of shock. I can’t say I was exactly surprised. The Elohim seemed to be much like Metas and like Metas the thought that his powers might fail on him had caused him to enter a state of shock. For some reason those with great power tended to think that that power made them infallible. As such, I wasn’t surprised by the glassy-eyed stare on the sorcerer’s face.

Without preamble I grabbed Ambrose on the shoulder and roughly shoved him out of the way. Somehow the Sorcerer managed to trip over his own feet and sprawled face first onto the sidewalk. At the very least he was out of the Killer Croc’s immediate radar - though apparently Ambrose was more than capable of inflicting harm on himself all by himself.

I suppressed a sigh - Ambrose was beyond useless. For some strange reason I caught myself wanting to go to his side, to check on him. To maybe bandage any wounds…

I managed to snap out of it just in time to dodge out of the way of Killer Croc’s monstrous jaws. 

I forward rolled to his flank and as I hit the ground I kept in motion. I flung a single batarang - aiming for the fleshy part of his armpit. The batarang sunk into the meat though it seemed to have little effect except to annoy him and to keep his attention firmly on me. 

The Croc was hot on my heels I ran toward the nearest light pole. I drew my grappling gun and fired it at the top of the light pole. 

Croc moved with instincts based on years of fighting Batman and his allies. He leapt to intercept me as I went airborne…only I didn’t go airborne. 

I released the handle of the grappling gun as it reeled in and slid, feet first, toward the light pole. The gun shot toward the top of the light pole at the same time I drew a second launcher, pointed and fired it at the airborne Croc. An enormous weighted net erupted out of the end of the device and wrapped around Croc’s form, it threw his enormous bulk only slight off course but still caught him by surprise - causing him to crash - head first - into the light pole. 

He hit the ground hard, bound and - I hoped - beaten. 

I hadn’t lived as long as I had in this gig without being thorough. Rather than turn my back on the possibly-beaten-maybe-not-quite-defeated monster, I cautiously and carefully approached. 

As I did I drew a specially designed hypodermic needle from a specially padded pouch in my utility belt. As several of Gotham’s police officers and many others have discovered, usually with the price of their life, Croc’s hide is unusually durable. As such, the needle in question had been designed by Batman and I to penetrate that hide, using an ultra-fine, razor sharp point that could, theoretically, punch through the spaces in between the tough scales of Croc’s hide. 

The needle contained a tranquiliser called Etorphine. Normally the use of such a drug on a human would have very serious consequences up to and including death. But Croc’s metabolism is superhuman, meaning that the sort of drug normally used on Elephants should have been just enough to put him down…I hoped.

Unfortunately I didn’t get a chance to find out. As I approached the net Croc came to, he struggled against the net until he managed to get purchase on its surface with his claws. Then with an almighty swipe he shredded the net around him, clawing his way out of it like so much cotton wool.

“That was a prototype, high durability fibre,” I told him quietly, “do you have any idea how much that cost.” 

Apparently Killer Croc didn’t really care. With another roar he charged at me and it was on for young and old. 

I drew a collapsible bo-staff and went to work. I blocked his first attack and then his second and his third. Croc began to grow frustrated. Growling at me he attacked with renewed ferocity, trying to penetrate my defences. 

I may not have the acrobatic ability of Nightwing or the genius of Batman or even the ruthless drive of the Red Hood but when it comes to the bo-staff, I have no equal. 

At first I defended against him and then I began to go on the assault. Carefully, cautiously I swept under his blows and hit at the vulnerable points of his anatomy - his crotch, his shin, the underside of his ribs, I even managed to swing one blow up and nail him right between the eyes. 

However, all my efforts only drove him more enraged. 

Normally at this point I would retreat, regroup and call in back-up. Unfortunately fleeing at this point would mean leaving Ambrose behind, given his present record in the field it seemed that would mean he would probably be eaten. I couldn’t even call in back up because apparently Ambrose’s anti-technology field had managed to fry my comms equipment. 

Of course that was the moment that Killer Croc managed to get through my guard. I took only one swipe, just one for him to cut deep into my throat.

I dropped my bo-staff and gripped at the wound. He had severed the carotid artery and my trachea. I wondered quietly to myself whether I would die of suffocation or blood loss - I thought I should be able to work it out which would kill me but for the life of me I couldn’t. 

I gripped at my throat at tried to breathe out a warning to the still prone sorcerer only metres away from me but I couldn’t manage it. 

It was strange that as I began to lose consciousness my last thoughts were of Ambrose.


	5. Iron Coins

I stood up as Killer Croc cut Timothy’s throat. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Croc’s claws pressed into the flesh of his neck before they broke the skin and bit deep into his neck. 

There was a moment of oblivion. 

In that moment I thought that he was dead. 

Then his hands gripped his throat and I realized he wasn’t dead yet. 

A terrible rage began to stir in my stomach.

As he had grabbed his throat Red Robin had dropped his quarter staff. Before the staff could finish falling I grabbed it with my telekinesis and sent it flying at Killer Croc. The staff entered the beast’s maw and lodged into his throat. Croc stumbled back and clawed at the staff, trying to stop it from choking him. 

I propelled myself using my Will alone, placing myself in between Red Robin and the Croc. 

I had to end this quickly. It occurred to me that the staff was the solution to my problems.

It was then of course that Killer Croc bit down with inhuman strength, biting the staff into two pieces. 

Yet the staff was the answer to the riddle. 

Croc regurgitated the chewed end of the staff, hacking like an asthmatic as he sought to remove it from his throat. I reached out telekinetically and gave him the slightest push, as my Will touched his skin the energy from me simply seemed to vanish. It was as though he had an immunity to magic. 

Why then had the staff worked?

Croc finished clearing his throat and he closed in on me, as he approached I sidestepped so that I drew him away from Red Robin lying on the floor behind me. He matched my steps, all of his attention was on me.

Croc closed in on me but I wasn’t afraid. 

As Croc swiped at me I shifted my form. I placed myself slightly out of sync with reality, hiding in plain sight. To Croc it appeared as though nothing had changed, though if he had taken the time to look at me side on he would only have seen me as a flickering form. 

That being said to this day I still wonder if the lizard possessed peripheral vision. 

Croc’s claws passed through my head as though it was so much vapour. I reformed before him and smiled. 

Croc attacked a second time, this time throwing himself at me bodily. I shifted again and he charged straight through my body. His own inertia caused him to fall, arse over head, onto the ground behind me. 

While he lay there I reached out to the road telekinetically. I said a silent apology to Batman and lamented the lack of anvils. I then lifted the vehicle Red Robin had driven earlier in the evening straight up some ten metres into the air and brought it forward until it was hovering directly over Croc’s head. 

The monster got to his feet and growled at me. 

“You should have never hurt the boy,” I told him simply.

I dropped the car on his head. 

I ran to Red Robin’s side. Less than a minute had passed but he was close to losing consciousness.

Without even thinking about the consequences I began to roll up my sleeve. I reached out to Timothy, the link I had established the previous night to heal him was still there, strangely it had only grown stronger since the previous night. Through that link I could only think of him as a Timothy, it was a bond that was much too personal for any pseudonyms. 

All that was required was a sacrifice on my part. 

The wound from last night was healed, a single red line remained where I had cut into my arm. I took one of the batarangs from Red Robin’s belt and placed the tip against the healed wound. For the second time in as many days I deliberately spilled my blood to save a mortal life.

Red Robin began to heal as the blood ran from my arm. 

*

Some time later I sat in the Bat Cave waiting for Alfred to report on Timothy’s progress. I had initially intended to not leave his side but a single threatening look from Batman was enough to leave me sitting quietly in the corner like a naughty school boy. I sat on a chair in the main room of the cavernous sick bay.

As I sat there I inspected the item I had retrieved from Croc’s hide. The incision had been made between his toes and the item had been placed inside, before the wound had been sewn up again. The piece was a coin and it was made out of pure iron.

After what seemed like a lifetime Alfred came out to report that Timothy was stable but sleeping. 

“That’s a relief,” I said out loud. 

“I would have thought that you had surmised as much given the obvious improvement in his condition,” Alfred said to me as he washed his hands in the sink. 

“Like I said I’m not much of a healer,” I told him ruefully.

“But you have saved Tim’s life twice in as many nights,” Alfred observed.

There was a fierce affection in his voice. I realized then that Alfred’s affection for this strange family was every bit as real despite his lack of blood connection with any of them. 

“Come upstairs,” Alfred said to me, “I’ll fix you some tea.”

“I really like English Breakfast,” I admitted.

“We’re just going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Alfred decided out loud as he led me to the kitchen.


End file.
